


Pretend

by AngelaCake



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaCake/pseuds/AngelaCake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Damon gone, Elena seeks comfort from a shared friend and may have gotten a little carried away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> This probably isn't what you're expecting.

Elena couldn't say why, or even how, she ended up in a tiny motel room at the corner of no and where, sweat soaked sheets twisted around their tangled limbs, Enzo's arms holding her to his bare chest. She had gone to the bar last night, the same one far enough away from Whitmore that none of her friends would find her, the same one she went to every few days. She had tossed back Bourbon and blood and talked in low voices with Enzo, the same thing she did every time she went to the bar. And they had ended up staying until the bar closed, exchanging stories about him, the same thing they did every time they talked.

Enzo knew him before she did. They'd spent so much time together that Enzo could tell her things even Stefan couldn't. Better yet, Enzo was like her- Enzo knew and loved him for who he was now, not for who he used to be or for who he could be. Enzo was the only person she could share the real moments with, the ones he used to hide- the honest smiles, the confessions, the insecurities, the promises. 

So of course she'd talk to Enzo. Of course she'd reminisce with Enzo. Of course she'd drink his bourbon with Enzo. Of course her friends would hate it, so she'd have to drive to a bar miles away from them to see Enzo. Of course she'd start to crave it, of course she'd need to be around the only person who understood, the only person who knew she still wore his half-melted ring on a chain around her neck. 

That ring rested on her chest now, the deformed metal cold in the hollow between her breasts. It was so small, but right now it seemed to weigh heavily on her heart. When Enzo had leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, she'd wanted to push him away. Or more accurately, she'd wanted to want to push him away. But he'd tasted like alcohol and blood and pain and _need_ , and Elena knew she must taste the same. And when she'd closed her eyes, just for a moment, for a second, she'd tasted him instead. So when Enzo grabbed her and pulled her close, she reached up not to shove him back but to tangle her fingers into his hair. She could pretend. 

Until the sun filtered in and showed her cropped brown hair, not raven black locks. Until she fully woke and felt cheap motel sheets, not their large silky bed. Until she heard Enzo's heavy breaths, and not his deep silent ones. She shut her eyes. In the darkness she could pretend.


End file.
